The dream to end all dreams

Date: 7/21/2025

This was absolutely insanity. This was the longest dream I think I’ve ever had, and so vivid and detailed I think it may be worthy of inspiring a book. I just spent hours writing it out. Let’s go. ** The beginning part was hazy, I’m not sure how exactly we lived before but it seems it was a rather normal society, people lived with their families and had jobs and lived without much fear of violence. I am myself, perhaps a bit younger living with my mother and father, my brothers I’m not sure if they existed The world turns to chaos rapidly. I lived in a medium-sized city with more rural areas close by. People had begun building underground malls and businesses to save space in growing cities, it was surely the future. There was political and societal disunity. Posters began popping up. When driving through the area, you’d often see posters of religious/race-based propaganda. One poster would have a man with a large beard as the standpoint with a shining aura about him and two men in the back. There’d be writing on it explaining why the glowing man is better and the other two groups are evil and looking to bring them down. The man with the large beard was always represented as the Jews, but depending on who made the poster he would either be shining and attractive or old and kind of evil looking. The other groups made their own and basically just switched around the men to make it fit their agenda, of course the maker always put their group as the ebst. I was always thinking, “Don’t they realize how foolish they look? You are all the same, and doing the same thing, but you think you are better, and they are the enemy.” I was beginning to get anxious as it seemed tensions were rising. Although I was never directly involved, I’d just hear about it on the news and see this kind of propaganda around. Things were beginning to fee l like they were making a turn for the worse. My family, among with others were upper middle-class and we had begun to live in an underground business. It went many floors deep, it was like a skyscraper but underground. The highest floors were medical areas with pharmacies, below were apartments, below that was a normal mall thay expanded atleast four floors, below that it was somewhat mysterious and limal, but the whole place was extraordinarily deep in the ground. There had been talk of a coming war of sorts, so families who could afford it began living underground just in case. Those who couldn’t afford to move stayed in their small homes above ground and hoped for the best. As for the wealthy, I suppose they would’ve had private, far more hidden places of refuge that we commoners were not even in the know enough to be aware of. Where they went was just whispers to us. It felt like the 1930s in Germany in many ways. Everyone seemed divided over how society should be ran and who should be a part of it, but those you disagreed with were demonized, not humanized. I felt sad that we could no longer work together. We had a kind of director of affairs who would take us out to get items we needed. She was around thirty and was a pretty cute ginger chick. She had taken me and some others out and we were rather far from our sanctuary when hell broke loose. A large explosion seemed to rage across the distance. It was far enough that it did not impact us so directly, but it was surely of extreme force. Then more dropped. You always knew that people had just died, without a moment's notice, you just hoped and felt that your given spot would not be next. I mean, what would the odds be that your exact location would be the one hit? God knows… The director urged us all to come back to the vehicle immediately. I was near her so I jumped into the back of the Jeep swiftly, but some of the others had wandered a bit of a distance. She yelled frantically. I did not know how to help. But they came as the explosions had been their warning shot; they were frightened, and the middle-aged folks I was with ran back with terror in their faces. The director drove the Jeep with swiftness. But we began to come across the real mayhem. We did not know who shot first, or second or even third bombs. Men had swiftly become monsters and looked like prehistoric things. It was rather like the Rwandan Genocide. Many men were shirtless and yielding machetes or other blunt weapons. Captors had groups of people lying on their stomachs with their hands tied, ready to execute them. You could already see so many dead bodies by the roads. People were being disembowled alive. I witnessed multiple people having their intestines ripped from their bodies as they screamed before dying or fainting. It was a horror show. The director stepped on the gas, and drove directly over anyone who was in her way. Including some of the captives, of whom I felt poorly about. I wanted her to turn around, to find another way. But when I thought more about it, if she slowed down enough to turn around, then these mad men may have a problem with us as well, and we’d surely end up dead or tortured, too. She was doing the best thing under pressure for us, which was to go through without mercy and not to stop and think. The area we were coming through was the lower-class area, and it was not only race issues but class issues that were aggravating people. I had never been rich, and I felt also displeased with how the wealthy had treated those below, but as someone in the middle the balance of it all was strange. I had once been lower-middle class, but my parents' business had grown until we could all afford a better life, and we moved up on the class scale. Yet I had never suffered truly, I had never been hungry or cold. I felt for the poorest of poor, but I was unsure about how to share this wealth or if I even should with some of them. After all my family earned it right? My father had been a poor boy with a single mother, and he worked his way to the top for himself and his family. Therefore, my family deserves it? But then what am I? But his child, who did it was merely given to as a birthright. How complicated it all is! As someone in my mere early 20s, I decided that when I am a real adult, then I will decide how to proceed. Our arrival to the bunker is chaotic. Our jeep is immediately allowed in because its with the director. The entrances re blocked by a kind of force field and sometimes also physical gates, but the forcefiels are the main defense. They turn off when you have the right credentials to enter. But the guards are frantic. They are shocked and wish to keep our entraces hidden so the madness cannot enter. Once inside, I go back to my family and we discuss the madness as we watch the newscaster explain our descent into war. My family is not politically affiliated really, we are atheist and white and had been largely accepting of others. All this hatred was a bit of a mystery to us, but allas the rest of the world seems to really have some issues with one another, for whatever reason, it seemed foolish. In the bunkers, it was forbidden to act like the outsiders. No discussions of race, religion, class or general hierarchy were key to peace. So this is how we lived. We had to keep out the madness. ** Some time passes and life in the bunker is tense; we hear explosions often now, but we mostly feel safe underground. I went to the lowest floors once, and it is rather unhabited and feels ominous. Like the liminal Backrooms. I wonder what kinds of secrets it holds, when a women who reminds me of a kind school teacher tells me to go back. I do… My parents were often out and about, trying to gather things of need and maintain a business to sustain our lives in the bunker. It felt like as long as we paid, our bunker was a safe haven. When the company that owned the bunker kept giving money to the government, we were left to be. ** Details fuzzy, but somehow people were also coming into the bunkers sometimes who were outsiders, and some seemed to have special privileges. Though normally only people who wer residents were allowed in, as we all had ID cards that would be scanned, then we could enter. If you left, it was paramount to have your card on you if you valued your life. A group of ginger women came in one day. They were young and very attractive; they said they were ‘the Calicos’. They were looking for my friend Sam. I nice guy aged 25 who had previously been my supervisor before the chaos, as well as a good friend of mine. They told me to leave him this message. I went and found Sam, who lived in an apartment with his girlfriend. I told him the Calicos wanted to see him apparently. Turns out the Calicoss were something like gypsies, they travelled through areas doing who knows what, but when they request a man - they are requesting to all sleep with him. I had never heard of them prior, it was rather strange. But Sam’s girlfriend Jojo was rather upset, the Calicos had left but it was as if Sam would have no choice for whatever reason, as they often return. But who is to say? It was not really my problem to worry about. I had heard a crazy girl was brought into the apartments recently, and she lived below me. She was a radical, and I think she was only allowed into the complexes because her parents could afford the extra to move them in. I was warned by another female friend that she was a delusion snitch, who may snap on you at any moment and accuse you of something so you’d be kicked out of the complex. I was known for being a smooth talker, so I believe that is hwy my friend brought her to me. My friend ran into her, and didn’t know how to best please this girl conversationally as to not be hated. So my friend tells the delusion girl, that she should meet me. When they come by my room, I am drawing. I am anxious at the sight of her, I let her in warmly, and throw on my charms. My friend gives me a sheepish look that hints at an apology but disappears. I got this. I want to be interesting and friendly enough she likes me, but not so much show she keeps trying to see me. I chat her up, blah blah blah, it works out fine. At some point, my father and I had to leave the bunker boundary to get supplies. Months had already passed, we are not going far - just to the above-ground shops. We tell the guard we’ll be back in twenty minutes and to expect us. But as we walk by the upstairs pharmacy, an explosion shakes the near distance. It was close enough that a dust cloud*? Rapidly approaches us. My dad yells to take cover. I duck into the pharmacy as the blast reaches us. After the initial shockwave, everything is dark and the air is polluted. I dont know where my dad went. Perhaps the anarchists caught him, perhaps he’s in a shop. I can’t see a foot in front of me. I was on what should’ve been the sidewalk but I just can’t see. I yell “DAD! DADDD! DAD!?!?” There’s no response. I’m frightened. “DAD!!?” My good old dad, where is he? I decide that what he would want me to do is get back to the bunker, maybe he is already there searching for me, and he is worried sick. I stumble around in the dark, keeping my left hand to the wall so I don’t get lost. I thought that should take me to our original exit but I don’t find it. In the haze of the dust I can see faintly orange emergency lights spinning along with their emergency drawling hum that reminds me of the fog warnings on the ocean. I make it to an underground entrance where the dust could not make it so I begin to be able to see again. There are many entrances to the bunkers. By this one there are two sleek and beautiful girls with shining black hair. I also have black hair but it seemed to shine so blue, I fely kind of plain in comparison but allas. I knew the girls were up to no good. “So, this is the way in?” I say, they cackle with mischief. I stand at the barrier, unsure of what to say. I scan my card on the wall and enter, the girls leave and skip off into the dust practically. I feel as though they’re going out to the Purge. Abbey is there somehow, a longtime best friend. We’re in a stairwell. We go up. We realized the stairs as you go up the levels go back and forth through the forcefield, and so you cant actually walk up them because you keep being blocked by an invisible wall. Were momentaitly stumped. But I say fine, well let us climb up the railings in such a way we are always within the forcefield. So this is what we do. Abbey jokes “this is why they don’t teach gymnastics in the Bunker, so we can’t do things like this.” I laugh, we make it to the top. But the forcefield blocks our way into the exit doors. We peer to it, it’s the hospital section, the doors are open, we can see into it but cannot reach it. For whatever reason it is pitch black, and there is no one there. We only assume it is the hospital section. We wonder if the people were perhaps evacuated. We decide we’ve got no choice but to wait. I have three cigarettes, I give abbey one, I smoke one, and save the last. After some time Abbey whines she wants another, but I wish to save it. We sit, leaning our backs to the rails, without water or anything besides the clothes on our backs, just waiting to see what happens. At this point I could no longer keep myself asleep, I’d woken atleast three times and managed to fall back asleep and back into the dream, but it was nearly 11am and I had fallen asleep at midnight. What a strange dream.